Unerwidert
by Sunflowers In Moscow
Summary: GerIta / / Veneziano knows that his love should have remained silent, because now things can never go back to the way they were. He can never go back to a time where he was sure Germany didn't hate him. Because last night had to have been an example of pity; why would Germany love HIM?


_I don't own Hetalia_

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Veneziano took a deep breath as he lay, revelling in the peace. His very blood felt like it was sleeping still, the heartbeat in his ear thumping steadily and slowly. The breaths from the man below him were mostly silent much like his own. He could feel his skin cooling as the air touched the sweat on his body, drying him slowly. The sheet had vanished sometime ago, and he was only kept warm by his bed partner. The shaped muscles below him flexed without preamble, and Veneziano savoured the fact that _he _had gotten to love this man with all his soul, mind, heart and body. His amber eyes for once were wide open, watching with a tired happiness the hands in his sight. His own tanned smaller hand engulfed by a paler, much larger one; the fingers interlinked. He could feel the pleasing sensation at the end of his arm, so far away, and a delirious smile spread across his face. The arm clinging to his waist was still hot and sticky.

Any and all other sounds were non-existent and the sun peaking over the top of the curtains lit up a small section of the roof. He couldn't see the alarm clock at the side of the bed but he wouldn't even consider moving to. If he had a choice, he would never move again. He felt so at home, like he had been born and had suffered so long as a nation simply to rest in Germany's arms at this very moment. He finally had gotten his chance to be with this man, this man so much younger than him yet in so many ways much, much older. There had never been a time in his life when he remembered being so perfectly content.

His body moved a fraction as his companion took a deeper, unconscious breath and Veneziano suddenly wondered with some trepidation as to what the man's reaction would be when he awoke. The nervousness broke through some of his glow, and his barely detectable smile melted away.

Would he regret it? Last night had been the best night of Veneziano's life, and he hoped such a wonderful thing would not be a source of repulsion. It had been so good to feel so wanted and so loved, and he truly wouldn't change a thing. He shifted his head upwards slightly until the man's face was in view.

Germany looked so gentle when he was sleeping; his hair fell out of its severe style, his face softened until he looked like a teenager without a care. Veneziano's heart sped as he committed this to memory, having the honour to see his love like this. To have felt his love like he had. For the ache in his heart made him feel as if it would not happen again.

How could it? His face fell even more as he remembered all the times Germany had yelled at him. He was useless, no one wanted him. How could Germany like him? How could Germany _love _him? He probably didn't. He probably only loved Veneziano last night out of pity.

Veneziano hated pity. He always had. Sympathy was fine, as was empathy. But he hated it when people pitied him. It made him feel even more worthless than he already was. He didn't need people to tell him how pathetic he was indirectly. And from Germany, it would be the worst. He had never received any from the blond before, and it was one of the many things he adored about him. Germany never tried to pretend he understood Veneziano, because he didn't, but that was okay. He accepted him regardless. But he wouldn't now!

He couldn't face it. He couldn't. Once a coward, always a coward; oh, what a coward he was, but he won't be able to face it. When Germany woke up and gave him that look, Veneziano won't have the courage to stand it. He's loved the blond too long to be able to take it. Loved him silently, all through the time were Germany believed such a love was the epitome of filth, all through the time where the blond had lost his brother, all through the time where he had barely acknowledged anyone's existence, let alone Veneziano's. Why did he let go last night? If he hadn't Germany wouldn't know, and wouldn't hate him. How could he let his emotions ruin everything?

He had to leave.

He had loved too long to be rejected now.

It physically hurt, but Veneziano gradually peeled his skin away from the larger man's, wincing a few times from his moaning muscles. His lower back was killing him, and he finally climbed off Germany's chest, unwrapping the blond's arm in the process. At last, he sat uncomfortably on the side of the bed, trying to avoid putting all his weight down. He looked down forlornly at the joined hands. It felt so right, to be holding hands as lovers. As equals who loved each other. There was a stinging in his chest as he remembered that was just a wishful illusion and this would be the last time he would get to touch him. To love him openly.

With the most reluctance he had ever had, he summoned the strength to pull them apart. His palm abruptly felt cold and empty, and his vision blurred when he saw Germany's hand give a futile grasp at the air.

His face crumpled, and a tear ran down his cheek. He looked up to the roof, to the sky with sorrow.

"Mi dispiace, but he'll hate me. I can't see him hate me." He whispered fervently, before pushing himself to his feet. His bathrobe was thrown haphazardly over the chair, and he lifted it before wrapping it quickly around his naked body. He felt so cold.

He looked over to Germany on the bed, before lifting the quilt and draping it gently over the man's sleeping form. He hovered over his handsome face, and laid a small hand on his cheek. Germany seemed to move towards the hand and before he could loose his nerve, Veneziano pecked a long loving kiss to the blond's lips. The pressure was perfect, and he poured all his feelings into the action, doing his utmost to recall every single detail. Before Germany could begin to respond automatically he moved his mouth to an ear and gave a passionate murmur, hoping beyond hope that something within the other nation heard him.

"Ti amo, Germania."

He was gone before the minute passed.

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**Angsty, I know. I might consider continuing this.**

**God, I love Germany x Italy in all forms.**

**Please review, let me know what you think.**

**_Greetings all! Due the to outrageous (not really) number of people begging for a continuation; it's happening!_  
**

**_I'm not going to post a new chapter, I'm going to post a longer, complete version. So if any of you want to just have the angst and no real ending (happy or sad - because I haven't decided peoples!) you can stay with this shot, but if you want to read more, you are welcome to on the other!_**

**_Reviews WILL be extremely appreciated once I post the other one, so if you review I will be very thankful. ;)_**


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